


The Wet Camping Trip: A Saga

by LolaPeePants



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Comfort, Diapers, Humiliation, Multi, Omorashi, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolaPeePants/pseuds/LolaPeePants
Summary: Emma, Laura, Maisie, Alice, James, Kevin and Dave are a group of friends setting out on a boozy summer camping trip. The trip is intended for them to chill out, relax, relieve their stress and lose control of themselves. But will that be all this group of twenty-somethings lose control of?
Kudos: 7





	1. An Introduction to Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of the camping trip and it's not off to a good start for twenty-four year old Emma.

Emma flushed and inspected the damage to her blue-check pyjama shorts. A large, fresh wet spot covered the left side, darkening the colours. The twenty-four year old blushed, despite being alone. She'd hadn't wet the bed – or come close to it - since she was fourteen. And even then, that wasn't really Emma's fault. She stepped into the running shower, attempting to wash away the embarrassment of her close call. As she lathered shampoo through her auburn curls, Emma recounted the previous evening in an attempt to work out what had caused her to almost ruin her ten year dry streak.

She'd been at Laura's house, along with the rest of their friends, sipping beers and finalising transport arrangements for their camping trip the next day. In Laura's car would be her boyfriend James, Maisie, Alice and Kevin. Emma would be making the trip in Dave's car, along with everyone's tents, equipment and supplies for the week, most of which had been unceremoniously jammed into Dave's backseat that evening. With that out of the way, the group returned to Laura's living room, beer and conversation flowing. After two beers, Emma needed a wee. She would have just gone, but this was her first time and Laura's new flat and she didn't know where the bathroom was. The thought of interrupting to ask, while also announcing her need to the whole group, mortified Emma. Deciding she didn't need to go that badly, Emma crossed her legs. As two beers became four, the pressure in her bladder grew. She began to fidget more noticeably, crossing her slim legs one way, then the other. At one point, she held one of Laura's throw cushions in her lap to discreetly hold herself. Laura stopped talking to Alice and checked her phone. It was now or never. Emma steeled her self and prepared to ask where the loo was.

“Oh my god, it's nearly midnight!” Laura exclaimed, the universally politer way of saying 'please go home.' It made sense, after all everyone would be up early tomorrow so they shouldn't stay out too late.

Emma made it through the goodbyes and confirmations of what time people would be picked up. Finally, she was alone. Her bladder throbbed, as she clenched her legs together. Despite her flat only being a ten minute walk away, Emma wasn't entirely sure she would keep her jeans dry. With a deep breath, she took a step and surprised herself by not immediately leaking into her knickers.

I can do this. She thought to herself, as she hobbled down the street. Halfway there, she had to stop again and cross her legs. Her bladder contracted, trying desperately to push it's contents into Emma's jeans and down her legs. Involuntarily she held herself and bobbed up and down while stepping from foot to foot. Heat radiated across her cheeks as she remembered where she was. If it had been dark, Emma would have given up and flooded herself. As it were, it the summer evenings remained light with people milling around, walking their dogs and enjoying the warmth. And looking at Emma almost have an accident in the street. The people everywhere also meant that a stopping for a tactical whizz in a bush was out of the question. Emma would just have to hold it, she hadn't had that much.

Fighting back, she clenched every muscle she could. Emma made it to her front door without incident. Key in hand, she pushed the door open and started up the stairs. Never had she more despised living in the upstairs flat. Another wave of desperation washed over her. Her pink knickers were on the verge of suddenly becoming very wet. Finally, and surprisingly still dry, Emma reached the door to her flat.

Door opened, jeans unbuttoned and Emma ran to the bathroom. She missed the toilet, starting to go before she sat down. Pee poured out of her in a cascading waterfall the moment her knickers were out of the way. It splattered onto the floor, narrowly avoiding the back of her legs. Not even trying to stop the flow, Emma flopped down, tinkling on the seat as she did. She relieved herself, feeling the tension leave as her overstretched bladder emptied.

 _That must be it then._ Emma concluded to herself. _I tired my bladder out ._

Wrapping herself in a soft white towel, Emma made her way to her bedroom. Upon re-inspection, there was in fact a small damp patch on her sheets. But that didn't count as wetting the bed. It was just a leak. The water she drank before bed, mixed with her poor, overworked bladder had caused her to have a 'pee dream'. Thankfully, the feeling of her shorts getting wet woke her up as she started having an accident and kept her bed mostly dry. Unluckily, a desperate dash to the toilet was in order, and a few leaks were lost along the way.

Emma sighed. Almost wetting the bed and destroying a ten year dry streak was not the way she wanted to start her camping trip. Especially when faced with a five hour car journey with Dave. How embarrassing would it be to wet herself in front of him? Well, it couldn't be worse than the time when her parents had put her in a pull up for a long trip and she'd ended up having to use it while they were stuck in traffic. Emma flushed red at the memory.

She shook her head, water droplets falling from the ends of her curls. Determined not to dwell on it, she dressed and headed downstairs for some breakfast to wait for Dave to arrive.


	2. Laura's Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura woke up late...and wet?

Walking through town bursting for a wee wouldn't usually bother Laura. Nor would the fact that she currently had to hold herself with both hands to prevent herself leaking into her jeans. Today though, she just couldn't seem to find the toilets. She knew there were public bathrooms in the town centre but for whatever reason she just couldn't remember where. Her need grew everytime she turned down a new street that didn't lead to her goal. Soon, she had to stop and cross her legs. Her brown hair fell around her face as she bent over. Desperately trying to not be desperate. Her bladder convulsed, threatening to empty itself into her light grey joggers. Joggers? Wasn't she wearing jeans? It didn't matter. Whatever Laura wore would end up just as wet if she lost control.

Finally, she spotted the grey roof of the public bathrooms. Laura almost wet her pants in relief there and then. Instead, she held on tightly. Hobbling along with her thighs pressed tightly together, the curvy twenty-three year old made her way towards her goal. The river next to her babbled away, water rushing over stones, taunting her. The river didn't usually run through the town, but it had made a special detour today to torture Laura. 

The toilets – and Laura's relief – were only fifty metres away. Now forty. Now thirty. Now sixty. Were the getting further away. Laura sped up to catch them, despite the ocean in her bladder sloshing in protest. Eventually she caught the runaway bathroom, and saw the three cubicles that promised her sweet relief. With one hand firmly holding herself, and her bladder throbbing in anticipation, Laura swung the door to the first cubicle open. The toilet was destroyed. Her heart fell, and her bladder squeezed. A single drop of wee found it's way into Laura's blue knickers. With deep breath, Laura moved to the next cubicle. Inside she found a hole in the ground surrounded by filth. Despite her desperation, Laura couldn't bring herself to squat. Pinning all her hopes on the final cubicle, she threw the door open. A porcelain throne greeted her. Laura struggled to get the door locked, but it was too short to provide any real privacy anyway. She ripped her joggers down and sat atop the throne. From here she could see over the cubicle door and her reflection in the mirror. 

Nothing happened. She was still dying for a wee, but it wouldn't come out. She sat on the toilet, full bladder contracting trying to empty itself but for some reason it couldn't. Laura tried to relax. A tiny dribble escaped, barely enough to provide any relief. The pressure continued to build. Laura pushed down on her bladder, pushing and pushing until finally her muscles gave way. Leaning back, sighing with relief she waited to hear the tinkle in the toilet. It never came. A warm wetness spread between her legs as she realised her joggers were still on despite her being sure she had pulled them down. God, she couldn't stop now though the flow was too strong.

Laura woke up wet. It took her a few moments to realise that she was weeing. Panic shot through her as she squeezed her thighs together to stop her accident. Her bladder felt heavy in her abdomen, full and distended. Laura couldn't lie still, rubbing her thighs together to hold it in. Despite having let some out, Laura realised she still needed a wee. Badly. Peeking under the duvet to asses the damage, Laura saw a dark wet streak over the right thigh of her grey jogging bottoms, and the beginning of a damp patch on the sheet. She must have woken up just as she started to lose control. 

“Shit,” she muttered to the empty room. She could hear the shower running in the en-suite. At least James hadn't been in the bed as she wet it. Hopefully he wouldn't be in the shower too long, or Laura would have to try to get to the guest toilet at the other end of the flat. Unable to lie still, she rolled on to her back. A few drops of pee escaped her tightly clenched muscles. Laura whined, and pressed a hand to her crotch. Now she was properly awake, Laura became painfully aware of just how full she was. Her distended bladder pressed against the elasticated waist of her pyjamas. Unable to find a comfortable position, Laura started to fidget, the rapidly cooling wetness of her clothes against her skin making it harder to hold her wee in.

Normally, Laura would wear protection after a night of drinking. Despite not being a bedwetter as a child, when she started partying at university Laura realised that alcohol turned her bladder into a different beast. Many an evening out had been followed by and embarrassing walk to the washing machine with damp bedsheets. The doctor thought it was because the alcohol made Laura sleep more deeply, and her bladder couldn't wake her up when it was full. James had been surprisingly kind the first time she mentioned her problem, not laughing even once. James was the reason she'd forgotten to put it on last night. The previous evening they'd invited their friends over to discuss today's camping trip. Laura only drank one beer, but that was still enough to cause an accident. Despite that, James had insisted on cuddling after sex and Laura must have fallen asleep unprotected. 

Laura whined as her bladder contracted and she started wetting herself once again. Trying to sit up only made the leak worse but she knew she had to do something. The way Laura saw it, she could either stay where she was and have an accident in bed or she could attempt to reach the guest toilet and risk pissing her pants on the way their. The now near constant dribble into her knickers made the decision for her. Laura sat up, gravity and her own body weight increasing the pressure on her poor bladder. For a moment Laura thought it was over. Now kneeling, her heel pressing against her pee hole, hands tightly holding her crotch and her thighs pressed together, she stopped the leak. But her dam was on the verge of overflowing. A wave of desperation sprung over her. She'd already peed so much she couldn't believe she still needed the toilet so badly. Rocking backwards and forwards, Laura held on with all her might. She tried to turn to get out of bed. Her bladder released. Returning to her original position stopped the leak. It dawned on Laura that she couldn't move. Her bladder was an over-filled water balloon and one wrong movement would cause it to burst. Tears stung her eyes. There was not helping it. One way or another she was going to wet herself.

At that moment, the shower stopped. James walked out of the en-suite, towelling himself dry. “Oh good, you're up. We're gonna be late-” he stopped himself, “are you alright babe?”

Laura didn't answer. The only thought in her mind was the toilet that she could now see through the bathroom door. The sight caused her bladder to pulse. She whined again, shifting her thighs.

“Babe?” James asked again, pulling his t-shirt on. “Did you, um, y'know?” James didn't know how to talk about Laura's bed wetting, he only knew how to be kind about it. 

Laura nodded, her cheeks burning hot, tears falling silently down them.

James, now fully dressed said “were you wearing?”

“No, Laura said through clenched teeth. A small, constant stream was dripping into her knickers. “Forgot.”

“Do you still need a wee?” He was walking towards her.

“I'm bursting.” The strain in Laura's voice highlighted her need.

This time James blushed. “Well I'm done now, so you can go run the toilet.” He gestured to the now vacant en-suite. God, Laura longed to be able to get out of bed, to run to the toilet and release the ocean inside her. She tried again to leave her position, causing the stream to become stronger. She looked at James with tear filled eyes, shook her head.

“I-I can't move.” Laura whispered. “I'll have an accident.”

A two second leak soaked her knickers anew. Her shallow breathing turned to sniffles. James's arms found their way gently around her. “I'll help you.” he said softly. Slowly, he started to lift her into a half kneeling position. Her legs on the bed, her chest resting against him, hands still holding herself.

The sudden movement was too much for Laura. Her bladder gave way, unable to hold back the tidal wave inside her any longer. She clung to James's t-shirt. “It's happening.” She whispered, “I-I can't hold it.” The ocean inside her drained, liquid cascading down her legs and pooling around her thanks to the plastic mattress protector under the sheet. “I'm wetting the bed.”

Then she started to sob. Laura knew she wasn't really wetting the bed. What she was doing was uncontrollably wetting herself in bed, fully awake and just feet from a toilet while her boyfriend watched. Trying to end the embarrassment, Laura fought to stop her stream. Finally, after what felt like hours, she got her bladder under control. She still needed a wee though, cutting off the stream was only a temporary measure. 

James cradled her head and stroked her hair. “It's okay sweetheart. Accidents happen.” Laura blushed again and looked away, as her control wavered and she started to forcefully wet her joggers again, before once again stopping the stream. She so desperately wanted to get at least a little bit in the toilet to not feel like a complete failure. 

“All finished?” James asked, his thumb tracing her jaw line. Laura didn't need to answer as her control faltered again. “It's okay babe, you may as well finish there.”

For a moment, Laura sat stunned. Had James really just told her to wee herself in bed? She didn't consider the implications of this and instead stopped holding. Relief washed over her, causing her to moan, much to both her and James's embarrassment. When her bladder was finally empty, James helped her out of the now very wet bed. He peeled the soaked joggers and knickers of her legs and pressed a kiss just below her navel. “Go and get cleaned up, I'll sort this out and let the others know we're running late.”

Laura made her way to the shower half naked. Knowing James wouldn't tell their friends about her little accident comforted her greatly, but the fact they were about to embark on a week long boozy camping trip did not. As she stepped into the shower, she could only hope that her sleeping bag wouldn't be the site of a similar disaster.


End file.
